


BLUD

by AvengerPrime



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, OC Huntsmen Team, Trying to avoid interferring with main story of canon, you were warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengerPrime/pseuds/AvengerPrime
Summary: A snarky spearman, a wild hunter, a scarred strongman, an aloof scholar. These are the four members of this odd ball team as they return to Beacon Academy for their second year. With their teachers guidance, old friends and new faces, their ready to take on the world of gods and monsters they call Remnant. Or so they think.





	BLUD

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do NOT own RWBY. RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum (RIP). I do however own my OCs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When all the world sees is a bloody cover, the entirety is lost in assumption. Without regret for the methods of the past, a new story will be told."

"When all the world sees is a bloody cover, the entirety is lost in assumption. Without regret for the methods of the past, a new story will be told."

The cold mountain winds blew strong, sending the topmost snow back into the air. Carrying it across the mountainside, sending resulting flurries over the edge of the cliffs, into deep crevices and fill in a trail of boot prints.

The trail led to a figure in a black cloak with read patterns, the edges of which dragged along the top of the snow which half way up his shins. When the edges of his cloak wasn't being pulled across the frozen ground soaking it was bellowing in the air, causing him to hold it closed with a hand as he climbed terrain.

He stopped for a moment, his unoccupied hand appeared out of his cloak holding a thermos. He opened the container and took a swig of the warm drink inside, to shake off some of the cold. He removed his lips it then turned his gaze to his surroundings and only saw the snow and rock. Black and white. Same old, same old.

He sighed and took another drink from his thermos when he heard something, it barely registered over the wind. His curiosity peeked, he turned and started making his way towards the noise, thankfully down the mountain.

He came to edge of a cliff, down below was a narrow winding, well travelled road, built right along the mountain face. It began around a sharp corner then followed the curve of the rock face then continued up. Bellow the road was what would be a field in warmer times that went down until disappearing into the clouds, and this was were the sounds came from.

A pile of wreckage that was once a horse drawn carriage lay beneath the road, the animals lay still, thrown from their charge in the crash. A group of five as huddle together near the former transport, the former passengers and coachmen, a few limped on their own or with support of another. The group had tried to make their way to a path back up to the road, but their progress was hindered. Boxing them in against the side of the small cliffs, where over a dozen black shapes. Some on all fours, their burning red eyes shone through the snow carrying wind, The Creatures of Grimm.

Specifically one of the most common forms of Grimm, the Beowolf. On their hind legs they towered over the average sized adult, known for their speed and making up for their lack of strength by travelling in packs.

The Beolwolves closed in on the humans, dark music of their growls, snarls and howls bouncing off the cliffs. Most of their soon to be victims held pieces of their ruined vehicle as crude clubs or stabbing weapons, one of the coach man held his driving whip futilely swung it in any direction a Beowolf was in, trying in vain to keep the beasts back.

The group eased closer and closer and the beasts neared, many muttering prayers to what ever power would hear them. In the centre of the huddle, a mother clung to her son tightly, quickly whispering to the brothers to save her boy over and over. The lad turned and peaked through a gap in the wall of adults and saw a great shadow step out of the shroud of white.

A Beowolf, larger then its pack mates, it had more spikes and armouring covering its body. The new comer leaped atop a rock giving then let a commanding snarl and its brethren started to ease closer and closer. The coachman swung his whip more and more erratically at the nearest Beowolf, almost striking his fellow survivors several times. The Grimm evidently grew tired of the coachman's display, as it lunged forward catching the whip in its jaws then threw weapon over its shoulder, flying out of the coachman's grip and out of sight.

The Grimm snarled, the humans fear reached a new peak, the mother stopped praying and trying to assure her child and just tightened her grip on him and started crying. Beowolf was about to leap at the cornered humans when something landed in front of it, startling the beast, a long black pole. Beowolf on the rock growled and turned to the road for wherever it came from, but saw nothing. Then a whistle pierced the air, all eyes, human and Grimm alike, turned back to the pole.

Standing atop it was a figure in a long cloak, flying in the wind. His face hidden in the shadow of the hood, save for his mouth which was curled into a smile. Before the Beowolf in front of him could react, he struck the end of the pole with his foot causing it to be send spinning into the air, the cloaked figure to land on the ground and a bladed spear head to arch upwards out of the snow and slash the Grimm through the shoulder. He then grabbed the spear and thrust it into the to Grimm's neck.

The spearman withdrew his weapon and spun it around over his head before moving it behind him in his right hand, with its head pointing to the ground. The spear's shaft had silver rings around it, and silver blade at the head with an image. While at the base was a heavy looking cylinder that you think would have made it unbalanced yet it's master wielded it with ease. He smiled at the pack head, who growled in response.

The cloaked warrior turned to the humans and told them to make for the path. The party didn't have to be told twice. As the last of them to make to the path was the mother and son, the latter the spearman called out to. The youth turned to his saviour just in time to catch a still warm thermos. The boy, somehow, found it in him to complain it was half empty, in reply the spearman argued back with a smile that it was half full, before the mother grabbed her child by his collar and yanked him up the path.

With civilians no longer a concern, he turned back to the enemy. His gaze landing on the leader looking down from its perch. With a smirk the gave his pole arm a twirl, then now holding the large Grimm, then asked the monster a request. The Beowolf responded with a roar, commanding the pack to charge at the human, who grinned eagerly before running to meet them.

The head of the pack pounced at human, but before it could touch him he used his spear as a pole vault and catapulted over the beast, which dove snout first into the snow. He then landed on its back, as it was about pick itself up and drove his spear into the beast. With his weapon imbedded in their fellow two of the pack tried to rush him form both sides, only for the human to use the shaft to support him in the air as he kicked one on his right away, and used it as a springboard to swing round and strike the other in the side of the head.

The motion pulled the pole arm from the vanishing Grimm, throwing him into the air. After a mid air flip, he landed then planted the head of his weapon in the snow and then threw it into the eyes of a nearby by Beowolf, blinding it. One tried to rush him from the side but he jumped up, landed on it's back and used it and used it as a spring board forcing the beast down on the ground, while the spearman landed atop the ruined the carriage in a crouch, weapon held behind his back.

He was now on even ground with the head of the pack, they locked eyes and the warrior flashed him another grin at his snarling foe, before something caught his eye through a hole in the roof of the wrecked vehicle. The grin was replaced with a look of surprise which quickly gave way to a solemn one. Quickly, he brought his index and middle fingers of his free handto his lips, then touched his forehead then his heart.

He looked back up to his foe, just in time to see the had Beowolf, bearing down on him, ready to drive it's claws into his flesh. Acting fast, the spear jumped out the way, causing the Grimm to crash onto the ruined carriage, pushing it back with the impact. Being taken off guard, the spearman landed on his back, his cheeks warmed as he sat up rubbing his head. A certain barking voice echoed in his mind, lecturing him over his blunder.

He did not stick long those as several projectiles came flying at him, the young warrior dove and rolled out of the way before climbing to his feet.

One of the beasts had climbed up to the road, throwing rocks from it's vantage point. The spearman dodged and deflected at the other Grimm trying to get into pouncing and clawing range, then threw his spear spinning into the air. Then struck it's base with a spin kick, launching it at the Beowolf, striking it in the neck and pinning it against the cliff behind it.

His brief moment of embarrassment was replaced by a quick flicker of pride, along with an impressed grin at his feat. Though it was a brief moment, as the leader of the pack once again leaped at the now spearless spearman, who just managed to roll away from his enemies claws. The beast took several swipes at him, but the cloaked human leaned, ducked and stepped out of the reach, then jumped back threw on a hand out behind him and struck the Grimm's eye with his palm.

Monster began to growl in annoyance but it quickly shifted to a yelp of pain. It through its head back and covered its eyes shaking its head wildly. When it lowered its paws, where sat one burning red eye was now a hole with two thin scratch marks above it.

The remaining pupil turned to the human, who stood a safe distance away giving the Grimm a mocking smile, a decaying piece of Grimmflesh held out before him. The great beast snarled with a new level of anger and charged at the spearman, but as it neared he moved into its new blind spot, removed his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped around the beast's head and one of its forelimbs. Once the cloak secured, the Beowolf rose to its hind legs and went to tear the clothing off. The spearman simply kicked it in the tail causing it to fall into a ditch, deep with snow.

As he dusted off his hands, he heard the rest of the pack closing in on him. He turned round to them, allowing the monsters to see their chosen prey.

The spearman was a young man, barely two decades old. His eyes were blood red in colour, his hair, dark as night without the Moon or stars, was pulled back into a ponytail that reached the base of his neck, save for four strands left loose in front of his eyes. His face had features that some would compare to old Valian nobility. He wore a expensive, custom black jacket that went down to his knees, with red inside a collar, high enough to match his jaw, and silver lining around the edges, wrists mid forearm. On the chest was a pattern, like rounded bat wings that repeated five times going upwards. Beneath the jacket was a white button up shirt with a short collar.

Brown boots that stopped just below his knees were over a pants made from the same fabric as the jacket. Around his neck on a short red strap was a pendent, bearing the same image on his spearhead and on his jacket sleeves just below the shoulders. A side profile of a winged creature with bat wings, short horns, a pointed snout, a spade tail and a fang.

The expensively dressed young man glanced above the Grimm to where his spear was embedded in the rock face. He lowered his gaze back to the beasts, smiled then charged towards the pack, who rushed to meet him. He didn't engage them however, he dove, rolled and side stepped the monster one after the other, making his way to the cliff where his weapon had landed atop. Once there, leaped onto the o the and palms outstretched and clung to the wall of rock like a lizard then jump up to the ledge.

Landing in a roll then leaped at his weapon, braced himself against the cliff with his hands wrapping tightly around the shaft of his spear. Then jumped off the rock face spiralling. The Grimm below gazed up and time seemed to slow as saw the human grinning down at them, his blood red eyes shinning with excitement, his weapon held out in his left hand, between him and the Waning Moon above.

The spearman smirked and descended to towards the pack, spinning. He landed in the middle of the pack in a crouch, one of the Beowolves tried to take a swipe at him only to get its throat slashed. Another tired to tackle him from the side only for him to deliver several thrusts to its chest. As the second one fell back dead, the spearman spun round and caught another's hind leg with his polearm and flipped it on its back, brought the base of his weapon down on its head with enough force to create a loud crack.

The Grimm's juvenility was soon showed again, as another tried to claw at him from behind, only for him to block its attack and push it back. Time blurred, a mix of spinning, slashing, thrusting and blocking and before he knew it the pack lay defeated in the snow.

The spearman let out a breath and stood up, wiping his brow only to be struck from behind. He landed face first in the snow, his weapon went flying from his grip. He pushed himself up, turning to his assailant. The head of the pack, stood before him, fresh levels of anger reached with the death of its pack. The warrior pushed himself up and crawled for his weapon, any eagerness he held before replaced with a panic look.

The Beowolf roared. The spearman spun round so he was facing the beast, his eyes wide and mouth grapping. The Grimm pounced at him, jaw opened wide and claws outstretched, and the fear on his face melted into a grin.

Several spikes of blood red light burst out from the ground, skewering the beast in several places, suspending it in mind air. The Grimm struggled in vein against the spikes but it did little with it being ran through its thighs, shoulders, elbow, paw and bottom jaw. The spearman chuckled and pulled his hand out of the snow, his Aura glowed around it the same colour a the spikes, which vanished almost instantly dropping the Beowolf onto the ground on its stomach.

The spearman got to his feet, dusted his clothes down and retrieved his spear. Then walked up to the beast, which had someone managed lift itself up to stand on its knees, its forelimbs hanging limp at its sides. The head of the now dead pack met the warrior's amused gaze with its remaining eye, its burning light carrying its nothing but hate and murder.

In return the spearman smiled, then delivered an upwards slash with his spear. The spin turning him so his back was to his foe, weapon so it pointed straight forward. Behind him, his last foe knelt before the mountain wind pushed it over with thump. The spearman glanced over his shoulder at the decaying Grimm, then turned his gaze over the former battle ground where it's fellows lay in various states of decay.

He lowered his spear disappointed that the fight had to end, then he heard something behind him, the crunch of snow and it was getting louder. When sound grew closer he spun ground, his weapon aimed at the ridge above him and any eagerness vanished.

Looking down at him from a top a low ridge were three figures, wrapped in dark cloaks not unlike the one he had tossed away. Each figure stood a different height, and while their faces were concealed in shadow, the spear man could see strands of dark brown, red and gold dancing in the wind.

Lowering his spear, he gave the trio a small wave, which only the shorter one on the right with the blond hair returned. The taller red haired figure didn't part their cloak but from the way it shifted one could see them folded their arms and shake their head. The central figure outstretched her hand and beckoned the youth to the three with a finger. Releasing a frustrated sigh the spearman went to join them.

Unseen to the group, a fourth figure had observed the battle from the road. Dressed in a long coat with wide brimmed fedora obscuring his face. A scroll held in a gloved hand, currently playing footage of the engagement, before he closed the window and opened his messages. He read the latest message then let out noise between sigh and a grunt, closed his scroll and placed in a pocket inside his coat. Then continued along the ruined path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Baron Thornley III. 
> 
> Species: Human
> 
> Weapon: Insangerat Tepes (Handgannon base Spear)
> 
> Semblance: Impaler
> 
> My got my first idea for this team just before Vol 4 was just released, before all the world and lore building. I've given them an, admittedly much needed, overhaul though there is some AU here though, I'm going to avoid main story of canon best I can.


End file.
